


Coastal Shores

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance, Vacation, idyll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-10-29
Updated: 1997-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vacation, have to get away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coastal Shores

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the "Paint Chips Game" Universe Challenge. "Coastal Shores" is a bright medium blue. It's AC082N on Paint Chip K4, from a manufacturer that doesn't put their names on their paintchips.

The Sylvia Beach hotel had everything needed for a romantic weekend: an extensive library with wingback chairs, a marble fireplace and hot spiced wine at ten, the "Tables of Contentment" restaurant for gourmet breakfasts and dinner, and an incredible ocean view. Best of all were the things it didn't have: phones, televisions, and kids.

The old hotel sat on top of a bluff near the center of Newport, a mere stone's throw from the beach, and, during storm season, it had a number of vacancies. The Tennessee Williams room with its mosquito netted canopy, the Herman Melville room with its huge four-poster, and the Edgar Allen Poe room with its pendulum were all free.

Jim wanted to stay in a yurt.

"A yurt?" Blair tossed the brochure he'd tried to give to Jim onto the coffee table. "Listen, what I know of yurts has to do with nomadic tribes in Mongolia and fermented goats milk. You don't seriously expect me to stay in a yurt during storm season, do you?" Images of rain-soaked sleeping bags flitted though his mind. Man, he'd had enough of that already.

"Ah, but these are different. These are like modernized tents, with wooden floors and electricity." Jim leaned back against the couch and spread his palms wide, his expression revealing dink-all about what he thought. "The state got a grant for them, to help fill local campsites during the winter. All we need to bring are sleeping bags and a set of towels. The park provides lamps, a small table, a futon, and a set of bunkbeds in each yurt. We could sleep up to six without any problems."

Sleep up to six. Bunkbeds. Blair stood and paced to the window, seeing his dream of a warm and comfortable seduction of Jim drift into nothingness. With his luck, their vacation would be a disaster. It would rain, the beach would be miserable, they'd freeze their butts off out sleeping in a canvas room, and would still be no closer to sex than they were right now: two kisses and a couple of gropes shy of an orgasm.

Blair ran his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. He really, really wanted to have sex. Just thinking about it made his dick hard, and he resisted the urge to reach down and rub his crotch. He and Jim had made that 'oh-man-you-want me-too' discovery well over two months ago, but they hadn't really done anything about it yet. "Pleasures delayed", they kept chanting to one another, each time something *almost* happened. Even though Blair had been the one to make the recommendation, the idea of going slow was driving him crazy. Right now, every time his leg brushed against Jim's in the car, it was like a zap straight into his groin.

His Sentinel, though, seemed to be immune to the idea of a quickie in the car, but casual touches while making dinner were a totally different matter. Those had hastily escalated to more determined stroking, and then some serious frottaging while dinner burned. Blair had been jerking off for weeks now, reliving those water-torture nights.

There seemed to be a pattern: when Jim was focused on the job, his sexual interest in Sandburg was nil. Get him home and away from the job, and the boy wanted to play. Unfortunately, it wasn't the same league as Blair was in at the time.

Blair turned back to the couch, watching as Jim finally looked at the brochure. He really hoped that getting Jim out of Cascade would lead to more than play; a handjob, a blowjob, or something involving the judicious application of rubber and lubrication were more what he had in mind.

Basically, he wanted to fuck Jim through the floor.

Jim, however, wanted to sleep in a yurt, and Blair kept flashing on their last camping trip. "Look, the last time we tried something like this, a mosquito bit my dick. That's just not okay with me, hear that?"

Jim brushed him off and stood up. "Don't you think you're getting a little agitated here, Sandburg? It was no big deal."

Blair straightened, arching his back to get out the kinks. "No big deal?" He paced across the floor of the loft to the stereo and back. "No big deal, huh? I couldn't masturbate for a week after that, and trust me, I don't really get off on enforced celibacy -- not unless there's some sort of cleansing ritual going on, of course --but I --"

Jim grabbed onto his arm, pulling him to a dead stop. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I think you're missin' something here. We have never been celibate."

Blair shook off his arm. "Well, yes, technically we've never been celibate. Late at night, I'll hear the sound of one hand dancing, but I don't really think--'

Jim flicked out his index finger in a 'point-of-order' motion. "And the women, Chief. Don't forget the women. Say Samantha, for example?"

"Hey! That was before we, ya know, even considered that this might be a good idea."

"And Iris?" Ellison grinned as if he had said something particularly clever -- which he hadn't -- and Blair wondered if they were on separate planets yet again.

He perched gingerly on the edge of the couch. "I don't understand. We've both slept with a fair number --"

"Fucked."

"Sorry?"

"Fucked. We have both fucked a lot of people over the last couple of years."

"Listen, Jim, maybe you fucked Elaine out in her tent a month ago, but I distinctly remember making love to a least some of the women I dated." He leaned against the back of the couch and wouldn't look at Jim, knowing it would just piss him off. "And I would really like to make love to you."

Jim hauled Blair over the edge of the couch, and wrapped his arms around Sandburg's waist. "Sounds great to me. I'd really like to fuck you too."

"Whoa, here, big guy." Blair pushed himself up and away from the couch. "You want to *fuck* me."

"Yeah, I do."

"And I want to *make love* to you."

"Uh-huh. Sounds nice."

"Don't you see the problem here?"

"You lost me. I though we were saying the same thing for once."

Blair stared at him as realization took hold. Was Jim one of those type of guys to whom romance meant a new tube of lubricant and a six pack of beer?

Blair shook his head. Nahh...not even Jim could be that crass.

Though there was that incident about the air freshener in the bathroom...

Oh, hell. Maybe Jim really was that crass. "So what were you thinking of when you reserved a yurt for six? An all-night poker orgy?"

"No. I was thinking that the bottom bunk is a double, and that maybe you'd like to sleep there with me." Jim paused and looked away. "I know how cold you get. I thought it might be nice to share a bed."

"Well, I thought that'd be nice too. Only my idea of a bed comes with clean sheets and fireplaces, not canvas walls that all the heat leaks through."

Jim stood and threw his arms out and away from him, brushing Blair away. "Never mind, never-the-fuck-mind." He paused on the stairway, one foot already on the tread. "Goodnight. We can talk about this tomorrow."

Blair turned away, his hands clenched in rage. Man, what that guy didn't know about fantasies...Jim was just so prosaic at times, it was hard to see that he had any poetry in his soul.

Poetry.

Romance.

Man, that just didn't seem to be a part of Jim's nature.

He looked up from the floor. The moon's reflection on the loft floor washed the room in brief light, before being banished again by the clouds. God, but the moon was beautiful right now...

Shit.

Blair nearly gave himself mental whiplash as he realized that Jim must have been working on a fantasy as well, one involving long walks on the beach, probably, and a skylight that let in moonlight and stars during the cold winter weather. He let his head fall forward, his hair falling around his face, cutting off the view of the room. Man, he was being a dork. If Jim wanted to sleep in a yurt, they could sleep in a yurt. At least it would be easier on his pocketbook than a room at the Sylvia Beach Hotel.

* * *

Jim watched the shadows play across the brick wall, unable to get comfortable. He tried turning down his sense of touch, but it wasn't helping. The goddamned mattress felt like a rockpile tonight, and there was no way he was going to get around that. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight, just like he hadn't slept in the last four nights, planning his little get-away vacation surprise.

The kid was right, though. The first time should be someplace a little more romantic than a little beach-side cabin. Though, for the life of him, Jim couldn't imagine anything more romantic than that.

Maybe that was part of the problem. Jim didn't consider himself to be the most romantic man on earth, that was for damn certain. But the whole concept of themed bedrooms just made him shudder. Did anyone really want to stay someplace like that?

The light tread on the stairs told him Blair was on his way up. The kid probably felt guilty about their discussion, and would have decided to 'give in' by now.

But damn it, this wasn't something Sandburg should have to give in about. He had just as much right to pick their vacation as Jim himself did. There would be other days they could walk on the beach, other nights to watch the stars, other weeks when they could fuck near a hotspring without anyone the wiser...

Well, okay, not that. Sandburg was a noisy fucker; fact was, Jim was too. And the idea of getting Blair to the point where all he wanted to do *was* fuck sent shivers through Jim's own groin.

Maybe the hotel was a better idea. Canvas walls weren't exactly soundproof.

The fantasy took off as Jim imagined what Blair would look like that night, with his hair falling around Jim's face, closing them off from the world, his mouth open and gasping, each of them tasting the other's breath while the two of them made love.

He gritted his teeth and tried to get his erection to subside. Pleasures delayed, right?

The slow footsteps stopped; Blair was on the landing. "Listen, Jim--"

"Before you say anything, I don't want you to apologize. The hotel would be fine. Pick whichever room you want." Well, almost any room. "Just don't get the Poe one. I don't think I could sleep with a scythe over my head."

Blair sat down on the bed next to him, a reassuring weight even if it did pull the covers too tight. "A yurt would be great. I just want to spend some time with you."

Jim smiled up at him, his hands behind his head, deliberately not touching Blair. "Gift of the magi, huh?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah." He leaned down, his lips almost pressed against Jim's. "How 'bout two days each?"

Jim put his arms around Blair's neck and drew him down until their chests touched through the sheets. "Great idea."

They kissed, not the fairy-tale first time kiss like in the gym, but the deeper, more practiced kiss of comfortable lovers. Blair's grip on his arms relaxed, and Jim heard the thump of shoes hitting the floor as Blair wiggled onto the bed. Their first insistent touches grew gentle, like silk drifting in a breeze, yet still as strong as rope. Jim tracked callused fingers along Blair's collarbone, feeling the pressure just under the skin, when bone and muscle met. He asked a question with his eyes and Blair sat up, nodding his answer; Jim slowly opened the buttons on his friend's shirt, pulling it down and off, revealing his lover for the first time.

Unable to help himself, he ran his hand's over Blair's chest, memorizing the curve and dip of skin; the small scars of recent injury. Bits of wiry hair caught the edges of his nails, tugging at them like fishing line straining under the weight of the catch.

Blair arched back, thrusting his hips up despite the jeans, his arms straight behind him, hand flat against the bed. To Jim, he looked like a satyr caught in the midst of an orgy, pleasure and want written in every taught muscle.

"Pleasure delayed?" Jim asked, his hands kneading the fabric surrounding the top button of Blair's pants.

"Fuck that," Blair gasped. "Jim, come on, please."

"Soon, baby, soon." They somehow managed to get Blair's jeans off without killing themselves, and then Jim wrapped his hands around their cocks, pulling and milking them both to a shuddering, vengeful release.

 

Splattered and spent, they lay panting against each other, enjoying the moment. Jim lazed his hand down Blair's chest, letting his fingers drift through the hair, swirling and curling though them like eddies in a pond. "Maybe we should stay home."

"Maybe we should." Blair agreed, his voice already hinting at sleep. "Tell everyone we went to the coast and had a miserable time."

"Sounds good to me."

Blair snuggled into him, and Jim tugged the few rebellious strands of hair out of his own mouth, and pressed his lips against the top of Blair's head. "What ever you want to do, Chief. As long as I'm with you."

Blair just wiggled his ass in response, for all the world like a cat setting itself to sleep.

And in the moonlight night, away from the prying eyes of the outside world, Jim couldn't help but smile.

The End  



End file.
